


Not At All French

by PanicintheTARDIS



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Français | French, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-28 15:07:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/675776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PanicintheTARDIS/pseuds/PanicintheTARDIS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He turned to Patrick to find the surprise from his own eyes echoed in the eyes of his best friend. The surprise in Patrick's eyes though, was overtaken quickly in succession by a sort of angry determination, and then a mischievous twinkle that made something flutter in Pete's chest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not At All French

**Author's Note:**

> All constructive criticism welcome!! Thanks once again to my favourite person Catt for supplying endless help and advice and to Rebekah for the title!!!

"Ugh, Pete, what are we even doing here?" Patrick asked for what seemed like the millionth time.

"It's a surprise." Pete replied -again. They were on tour in France and Pete had surreptitiously found out from one of the roadies that there was a small music show-type-thing going on in the town their next break was in. He'd decided to take Patrick, a sort of best friend's day out. As alway though, Pete got them hopelessly lost.

"Seriously, dude, please tell me where we're going." This time, Pete could tell that Patrick was starting to get really pissed. That could only mean one thing: Patrick was getting hungry.

"As I said before, man, it's a surprise, but it's not really working out very well." Pete pulled a face. "How about we stop and get a bite to eat?" he reasoned, trying to keep the peace, "i'm sure there's a nice place around here where we can find a menu that we understand."

"Okay, but this better be worth it." Patrick replied with a frown. Pete sighed. This is not how he had planned the day to go.

 After a bit more walking, with Patrick getting more and more cantankerous, they found a little American-style diner, where they both slid gladly through the doors and into a booth.

\-------------------------------------

Upon the arrival of their pancakes, -buttermilk with dark chocolate for Pete, and blueberry with white chocolate and M&M's for Patrick- they both dug in.

While they ate, Pete found himself watching the younger man, his new baseball cap on his head, and his glasses slipping down his narrow, straight nose.  
His strawberry blonde fringe flopping into his eyes, which that day were a murky blue.

Patrick's eyes fascinate Pete.

Sometimes they're blue, sometimes green or maybe hazel, and sometimes they're a mystical mix of the three. Pete hasn't thought of a good enough name for that colour yet, but it's his favourite colour in the world.

"Pete?" Patrick raised an eyebrow, catching him in the act of observing him unblinkingly and probably creepily.

Pete looked away, hummed an awkward and non-committal sounding response, whilst trying to re-plaster the trademark, stupid, toothy grin on his face.

After a moment of watching him with his eyebrow still raised, Patrick continued eating and accidentally dripped chocolate down his chin, making Pete giggle and have to resist the temptation to lean over and lick it off.  
\-------------------------------------

When they'd both finished and the waitress came over with their bill, Patrick pulled his wallet out to pay, but Pete waved it away. He had tried to make it look nonchalant, but it liquified his insides just thinking about the fact that, the waitress might've been thinking of their relationship as something more than friends.

"Are you ready for another attempt go find your surprise, Pattycakes?" Pete asked, with a real smile this time, swinging an arm over Patrick's shoulders.

Patrick responded with a tut and a roll of his eyes, slipping straight out from under Pete's arm and opening the door for him.

"Why, thank you." Pete said, skipping through the door, before dropping into an exaggerated curtsey, and then bounding off in the only direction they haven't walked in yet.

 After walking in said direction for a while, Pete said: "Y'know, I was really excited about this surprise thing, Trick, but we should probably be getting back to the hotel. You probably should have used today to catch up on sleep, considering this is our last break day for the next two weeks."

"It's alright, Pete," Patrick replied with a sigh, " I would've just stayed in the hotel room, dicking around on my guitar or something, you know how uncomfortable I feel a-" and Patrick was suddenly cut off by some angry sounding French shouting:

"UN PAPA ET UNE MAMAN POUR TOUS LES ENFANTS! UN PAPA ET UNE MAMAN POUR TOUS LES ENFANTS!"

From what Pete understood of French (admittedly not much, but a few words and expressions here and there), it was an anti-gay marriage protest that marched into their view, complete with signs and megaphones. He turned to Patrick to find the surprise from his own eyes echoed in the eyes of his best friend. The surprise in Patrick's eyes though, was overtaken quickly in succession by a sort of angry determination, and then a mischievous twinkle that made something flutter in Pete's chest.

"Umm?" His lips hummed a questioning sound, just as Patrick took hold of his arm and tugged him in front of the protest, causing the whole thing to come to a stop, and the people participating to shut up. Pete will only ever be able to guess how long they stopped the protest for, as Patrick's next action, to him, seemed to be in slow motion: he adjusted the baseball cap on his head, he hesitantly shuffled his feet, stood on his tip-toes, put his arms around Pete's neck and kissed him right on the mouth...

And Pete, through all the glittery swirls and rainbows spiralling through his brain, had a moment to reflect: up to that point, he had always considered himself an Atheist, but when Patrick planted those pretty, pink lips (the same ones that frequently tormented Pete's dreams) upon his, he was in heaven. He felt that slight pressure of Patrick on himself all the way to the tips of his toes. It filled him up from the inside, and he felt it beating in the depths of his chest.

And then it was over, innocent, sweet and not at all French.

Pulling away, Pete opened his eyes. The look in Patrick's cloudy blue eyes was sheepish, but surprised, both of which complemented the blush blooming on his cheeks perfectly. Patrick lifted his shoulders and shrugged, and a coy smile tugged on the corner of his mouth.

"Sorry, Wentz," was all he could say, as he was interrupted by the retaliating roar of angry shouts from the crowd, and more worryingly, flashes, which Pete recognised to be coming from camera phones. He felt his eyes widen and he frantically tried to regain his cool by saying something witty, before having to escape from the cameras, but alas:

"Oh shit, sugar, I think we're goin' down!" And he mentally face-palmed himself. Luckily, he didn't think Patrick heard, he was too busy.

"Oh my God, Pete! Look over there!" Patrick yelled excitedly, struggling to be heard over all the noise, pointing in the direction of a small alleyway, which lead, as Pete could now clearly see, to a little square. Occupying it was a little wooden stage, complete with a few prehistoric-looking amps and a microphone stand that looked, to Pete, like it the first ever invented. So _that_ was what he'd spent all day looking for. He rolled his eyes, but when he looked over to Patrick, he saw him almost jumping with glee, which made Pete smile. Nothing is more satisfying than a happy Patrick.

"Surprise!" Pete said, raising his eyebrows knowingly, because he knew how much Patrick loved everything to do with music. Well, honestly, Patrick loved music more than anyone else Pete had ever met, and Pete had met a _lot_  of people! He's pretty sure that if Patrick could marry music, he would. Although Pete's glad he can't because even if he wouldn't admit it to anyone, he definitely wanted Patrick for himself.

"Is _this_ what we've been looking for?" Patrick's voice was incredulous.

"It sure is, man." Pete replied, and Patrick grabbed onto his sleeve pulled him into the doorstep-overhang-thing of a little shop, out of the eyes of any more homophobes/paparazzi/teenagers-with-cameras, and wrapped him in a tight, Patrick-scented hug.

"Thanks, dude. You know me so well." he said. The hug was brief, but that doesn't mean it wasn't one of the best hugs Pete had ever received. Hugs from Patrick were a rarity, and therefore were treasured. In fact, Pete was still trying to burn the intense feeling into the tissues of his brain when Patrick started tugging him, still by the sleeve, in the direction of a bench with a good view of the stage, where they then sat and waited for the show.

\-------------------------------------

" _Drop a heart, break a name. We're only sleeping in 'cause we're sleeping for the wrong team._ "

Somehow, they had ended up playing the little show they were meant to be watching. Something about how the organiser of it was a Fall Out Boy fan, and thought that, even though only half of the band were present, they were so much better than anyone else playing, and practically begged them, in his broken English, to play the little show for free. Patrick -being the kind, generous, angelic person he is- accepted immediately. He never could resist the fans, and anyway, it wasn't ever about the money, it was all about the music.

" _We're goin' down down, in an earlier round. Sugar, we're goin' down swingin'! I'll be your number one with a bullet, a loaded gun complex, cock it and pull it!_ " With that line, he turned his head, looked Pete straight in the eye and winked, and even though Patrick was singing, he could tell that the coy smile from earlier had returned. Pete being Pete returned the wink, and couldn't resist the urge to go over to him to lick his cheek, affectionately. At least he could get away with it on stage.

\-----------------------------------

As his fingers effortlessly skimmed the fret board of the random bass someone had found for him, playing along listening to his best friend sing about hips and hearts or something, Pete contemplated their relationship. Patrick had saved his life through the medium of music and reliability, and helped him improve himself for the better. Most of the time they act like an old married couple anyway, Pete doesn't think the transition from friends to lovers would be that difficult. If he was honest with himself, lost on stage listening to his life made into music, sung through Patrick with his lilting, mumble-y voice, he wasn't often sure about much. One thing he knew he would always be sure about was that he _loved_  Patrick so fucking much, and he sure as hell would do anything in his power to never _ever_  let him go.

**Author's Note:**

> If you hadn't guessed, this is inspired by the news story about the two girls, in France, who were apparently not gay, but kissed in front of a big gay marriage protest causing outrage for some, and for others, like me, a fuckton of respect.
> 
> For anyone who didn't know, the french shouting translates as: "A mum and dad for every child!"
> 
> I also feel like the ending is pretty anti-climatic, but I'm leaving room for if I want to write a sequel :D :D Okay, thanks for reading!!


End file.
